


Pressure

by arienai



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Budding feelings, CW: Mentions of Canonical Child Abuse, Heaven's Arena Arc (Hunter X Hunter), M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arienai/pseuds/arienai
Summary: "Sound is a wave," Illumi told Killua.In which Killua learns to be silent, and that Gon does not need to hear him to know that he's there.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one before I finished the series and it's been sitting in my drafts folder ever since. I wasn't sure I was going to post it because the Chimera Ant Arc changed so much about how I saw Gon and Killua's relationship (as it probably did for a lot of people), but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Take care out there right now everyone.

"Sound is a wave," says Illumi, as the narrow tips of his sleek hair dapple the water's surface. 

He is blindfolded.

"A wave?" Killua stands on the opposite side of a common tub, one he and his brother have shared in the past. It is filled to the rim with tepid bathwater. His elbows scarcely crest the lip; his brother leans far forward to bring their faces close.

"Just like a wave of water." 

Illumi dips one slender finger in up to the knuckle to demonstrate; Killua watches his own reflection waver in vacillations. Break, blur, and refocus. 

At last the surface is calm, and Illumi speaks quietly: "So to move soundlessly is...?"

"To go through the water without making waves," Killua responds, rapt.

" _Very_ good." Illumi strokes a strand of Killua's hair back with the same damp fingertip. Traces the line of his brow down to his jaw, then lets it fall. "Your task is very simple: reach into the water and pull my hair. You may not move your feet. It must be from below."

Illumi splashes the surface once; the ends of his hair bob in the tiny waves it creates like seabirds in a storm. "And I must not be able to feel it coming."

Killua stares into the shallow depths, down to the white tile his bare feet know by feel. He doesn't understand how sound can be the same as the movement of water. But he understands water, has seen it and touched it and been immersed in it. He knows what it weighs and how it slows his movements. He's observed the creatures who dwell within it and he reasons that, if a fish doesn't cause waves along the surface of a pond when it swims, he knows the answer: he must simply go deep enough.

Killua moves back as far as he can and plunges his arm into the water up to his shoulder.

An instant later Illumi seizes Killua's hair in a fist and shoves Killua's head under with it.

* * *

Speed, and smoothness.

Ultimately the two are one and the same, but it still helps Killua, at times, to visualize the concepts as his child's mind did. If objects collide very, very slowly they will make no sound; no matter how slowly it is turned a rusted gear will squeal. It's all in the force of contact - though rust is contact in the abstract - that force, that motion, imparts to the surface tension of the door handle and from there into the air of the room.

He finds it helps, too, to turn the latch with both palms. To make each movement one at a time: touch, turn, push, step, pivot, push, touch, turn. As with any set of movements, practice increases the smoothness - increases the speed at which they can be done in silence.

The spring of the latch and the hinges of the door are as well-oiled as the rest of the 200th floor of Heaven's Arena is well-kept. When Killua enters Gon's room, no one sees him do so. He makes no sound.

He treads smoothly, and slowly, across the floor.

On the right-hand side of the bed that dwarfs him, Gon's legs are crossed. His back is straight. His eyes are closed. His face is a furrowed slate of concentration; the cast-sling of his broken arm rests across his thighs.

Killua rolls the sucker in his mouth around to his molars to grin.

Wing forbade them to practice Nen. But not to practice practicing Nen.

Killua shifts slowly, smoothly to sit on the carpet at the foot of the bed, as he has before.

"Killua!"

Gon mirrors his grin back at him, brighter. His eyes stay closed.

Killua tilts his head backwards, and sighs. "Oh, c'mon. How'd you know it was me?"

"I can hear everybody else." 

"If you didn't hear me." Killua jabs the sucker against the inside of his cheek. "How did you know _anybody_ was here?"

Gon tilts his head back, too, and sniffs the air. "I can smell you."

Killua's scowl flashes and doesn't fade. "No you _can't_."

He knows Gon can't; when he can, Killua bathes twice a day. He only uses soap when he needs to, and rinses it thoroughly. He changes his clothing as often as he can, washes them without scents, and hangs them to dry in the air. He clips his toenails down to the skin. He scrubs them, and the oils from his hair and under his arms, with water so hot it scald--

"Mmm. Lemons."

Killua pulls the sucker out of his mouth. His glower lingers, redirected.

Gon flops over onto his uninjured side with a peal of laughter. "Got you."

"No you didn't, _idiot_." Killua bites the sucker and crunches it down to the stick. "What if Hisoka came in here carrying candy?"

"Hmm." Gon strokes his chin. "I didn't think of that." He motions for the sucker with an outstretched palm. When Killua tosses it to him, he sets it in his mouth and pats the bed beside him. "You don't have to sit on the floor."

"I know that." 

Killua pads to the side and sprawls across it in the opposite direction, his head near Gon's knees. He watches the ceiling blades spin smoothly, but not slowly, and imagines the currents in the depths of the whirring air it disturbs. Where would they lead? What if he held his breath, just for a little while?

Gon has propped himself up on his elbow, and watches Killua's face.

"I really like those," Killua says at length.

"Yeah."

Gon sits up on his knees, still watching, and puts the sucker back in Killua's mouth. There's not much left of it; Killua tastes lemon and wet paper and clean spit. He glances at the sling. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm." Gon rolls his shoulder in a circle, as if winding up for a pitch. "Yep. Way better. I'll be fine in no time." 

Killua jabs his forearm with a finger.

Gon yelps and topples; Killua might as well have kicked him in the nose for all the wounded whimpering he does before he struggles back to his knees to face Killua's arched, dubious expression.

"Tch. You're so stupid."

"Yeah, yeah, you already told me," Gon sniffs defiantly, "I said I'm _okay_ , I didn't say I was all better."

Killua raises his finger again.

Gon braces with his teeth gritted. He does not move, or flinch.

"You know this'll hurt just as much as the last time, right?"

"If you're not afraid of pain, then neither am I."

Killua drops his arm over his eyes. He chews the paper in his mouth into ragged shreds. "You should be."

He feels the weight on the springs shift as Gon leans over him, indignant. "Why should I be if you aren't?"

"It's not about _pain_ , moron." Killua cracks an eye open and peeks out from under his forearm. Prods Gon's set jaw with the soggy end of the stick. "Pain tells you you're hurt. If you get hurt too badly you'll end up like Gido and the rest of them. You want to spend the rest of your life welded to metal legs? You think you'd be just as good at fighting with one arm? One eye? Blind? No eardrums?"

"I can't hear you anyway. I'd still smell you." Gon slaps his hand away. "And you heal way faster than most people just like me, right?"

"Of course." Killua smacks his jaw right back. "But it's not _about_ that. It's about not taking _stupid_ risks for no reward."

Gon tries to grab his hand before he's smacked again; he can't, so he sits on Killua's arm.

Killua smacks him with the other one. "See?"

Gon growls and tries to grab that one too, without losing his balance. "See _what_? I learned a _lot_."

"You could've learned it from Wing." Killua keeps it out of his reach.

"No I _couldn't_. There are some things you only learn from fighting. That's why you're not afraid - I'm not afraid either!" 

Gon lunges.

Killua knees him in the side.

 _I am afraid,_ Killua swallows, along with a wad of wet paper, when Gon punches him in the stomach with all the strength he can muster.

He could use Nen and knock Gon across the room with a wrist flick. But Gon can't. He could dig his thumb into Gon's eye until it bled. But Gon won't. He could re-break Gon's arm before he could blink and leave him sobbing and screaming over the pieces of bone newly ripped into his flesh.

But Gon wouldn't.

Killua punches him back, in the face.

Gon punches him twice as hard.

Killua punches him in the shoulder.

Gon retches.

Killua pauses. The muscles in his stomach settle from their spasms while he lays still. He touches Gon’s other shoulder, gently. "Gon?"

Gon rolls on top of him with his knees pinning Killua's upper arms, grabs his throat, and starts to choke him one-handed.

Killua could get a leg up and kick him off. Gon knows that; has to know it. This isn't a wrestling match. Gon's dark wetted eyes gleam with determination. 

Killua obliges him by wrenching one forearm free far enough to grasp the pressure point in Gon's bicep, and squeeze it as hard as he can.

Killua watches the ceiling fan. 

It seems slower, now. Softer. Quieter. Its motions leave the surface of the air unperturbed, subsumed by the gentle hiss of ocean froth bubbling up into his ears. Somewhere distant the wind keens and droplets of moisture patter against his face.

The room is as monochrome as grey skies over the sea when Gon releases him. Gon's still crying when Killua can hear again.

"Displacement," Killua slurs softly. "He could tell no matter how I did it. Took me hours to figure it out."

"What?" Gon asks, and scrubs his face with his good arm.

"Nothing. You okay?"

"I think so." Gon heaves a shuddering breath and glances down at his arm. "That hurt a lot."

"I know." Killua inspects it: it's faintly bruised, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Gon is off-balance when Killua releases his arm; Gon falls forward, and catches himself too late. Their mouths are so close to one another Killua can smell the lemon candy on Gon's breath, too.

"Thanks, Killua," Gon says, and does not pull away.

So Killua must. He knows things will change between them if he doesn't; knows this as surely as he knows that one day, he won't. His skin is hot and his lips tingle and there's warmth in the pit of his stomach. Not yet. Not just yet. 

He turns his head to the side. "You should go get cleaned up."

"Guess so." Gon sits back on his heels, disappointment aimless and wondering.

Killua sits up and slides to the end of the bed. He sets his feet down soundlessly.

"You don't have to leave, you know," Gon calls after him.

"I know." Killua smiles over his shoulder, one tooth bared. "I'll be back."

He's just going back to his room to change into his turtleneck, before the bruises start to show.

Killua's always been slow to heal.


End file.
